The highlight of each Covid-19 day after I zoom around doing yoga (with the video off so I can collapse into child’s pose if it’s too strenuous) is going for a walk. At last the once white but now gray snow and ice have yielded unwittingly to the green of spring. With a sudden burst of energy the bright yellow skunk cabbage has torpedoed out of the mud. Blueberry blossoms, our tiny variation of cherry blooms, are right on the edge of shouting their way into our hearts. To my delight, lupin clusters cling to the edges of the forest.
I wandered lost in the wonder of the indomitable spirit of spring when suddenly a handsome man with shoulder length curls and a wide smile opened his arms and said, “friendly fathom!”
I love that. Here we are nestled next to harbors filled with fishing fleets and I am reminded we measure distance in fathoms, not feet.
The next time the woman with the two big dogs and the dangerous hiking poles stabs me in the extra tuffs and yells, “back off six feet!!”
I will smile and say, “friendly fathom, friendly fathom.”